Sara Craven - King Of Swords

Julia’s lips tightened as she watched him. He was tall, with glossy black hair, and a swarthy skin, and she didn’t have to guess where he’d come from. Her easy-going father had always permitted gipsies to camp beyond the copse, on the understanding that they kept the site tidy, and didn’t encroach in any way on the rest of the estate.

And now here was one of them strolling about as if he owned the place. Well, he would soon know differently! Julia decided grimly.

She swung herself up on to the wall, put two fingers to her lips and whistled.

The man’s head came round sharply, and he looked at her, but he made no effort to approach. Usually the same travelling people came back year after year, but Julia had never set eyes on this one before. He was darker even then Loy Pascoe, who was the head of the family, and had conducted the negotiations with her father. Julia was aware of unsmiling dark eyes beneath level brows, a beak of a nose, and a firmly emphasised mouth and chin. Not good-looking exactly, she found herself thinking to her own surprise, but with a definite air—seignorial and irritatingly arrogant—about him. Maybe he was some distant relation of the Pascoe clan and just passing through, but that was no reason why he shouldn’t obey the same rules as everyone else.

She said clearly and coldly, ‘Do you know you’re trespassing?’

He stood surveying her silently, hands resting on his hips, but he made no reply. He was wearing well-cut cream denim pants and an elegant knitted shirt, open at the neck to reveal the strong column of his throat, and a shadowing of body hair on his chest. His clothes had obviously cost a great deal of money.

The scrap metal business must be booming, Julia thought cynically. No poor relation, this one.

Her tone glacial, she said, ‘I suppose you do speak English?’

There was a slight pause, then he nodded, his face expressionless.

‘Well that’s something.’ Julia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then you understand what I mean by trespass?’

Another nod. They were actually making progress.

‘My father permits your people to camp on his land on certain conditions. I suggest you go back where you came from and find out what they are. And don’t let me find you wandering about here again.’

She climbed lithely down from the wall and got into her car, angrily aware that he hadn’t budged an inch. The nerve of him! she thought. She risked a glance in her mirror as she drove off, and realised furiously that he was smiling—laughing at her.

I’ll call at the camp and give Loy a piece of my mind, she raged inwardly. Give these tinkers an inch, and they take a mile!

She took a careful grip on her temper, realising she was over-revving her engine. After all, it was only a minor incident, and it was utterly ridiculous to feel, as she did, that it had spoiled her homecoming. Because nothing could do that. Not now, not ever.

Ambermere was going to be hers one day, and she was going to care for it, and cherish it in a way her charming, happy-go-lucky father had never done. He called it openly the Albatross, and laughed at Julia’s fury. Her month with Aunt Miriam had been a brief interval of rest and relaxation before she began the serious business of going into the Ambermere office with Mr Greenwood and learning how to run the estate. It was what she had always wanted, although Philip Kendrick had always insisted she would have changed her mind by the time she was old enough for such responsibility.

‘We’ll see how you feel when you’re twenty-one,’ he had told her briskly. And he’d been frankly astonished when her birthday had come and gone, and she was still of the same mind about what she wanted to do with her life.

And she would begin as she meant to go on by dealing with this tinker problem, swiftly and personally. If Loy thought she was going to be a pushover to deal with because she was a girl, he would soon discover his mistake!

She parked her car and walked through the copse. The shining trailers were parked neatly enough, but there seemed to be no one around except, for a tethered dog who barked aggressively at her as she passed.

She said, ‘Shut up, Ben you idiot,’ and knocked on the door of the largest and glossiest trailer.

It opened immediately, revealing a small, white-haired woman in a stridently floral overall. Blackberry-dark eyes surveyed the visitor gravely.

‘Well, Miss Julia,’ she said. ‘It came to me that you’d be here today.’

Julia gave her a level look. Grandma Pascoe was reputed to have the second sight, and made a good income from telling fortunes at local fêtes and fairgrounds, but Julia had never believed the old woman had any special powers, just a good nose for gossip, and a phenomenal memory. And everyone in the county would know that no matter how long she’d been away, she would be back for tonight’s party. No ESP required for that! she thought with a trace of cynicism.

She said, ‘Hello, Grandma. Is Loy about?’

The white head moved in negation. ‘He’s seeing a man on business. Come in, Miss Julia. The kettle’s boiled, and I’ve been spreading the cards for you.’

Julia hesitated. The tea would be welcome, but the last thing she wanted was Grandma brooding over the tarot cards on her behalf.

She began, ‘I really don’t think …’ but Grandma stopped her with an imperative gesture.

‘You may not believe, missy, but there’s a message for you just the same. I’ve been sitting waiting for you to come and hear it.’

And no doubt cross her palm with silver, the old crook, Julia thought, torn between amusement and annoyance, as she followed Grandma into the trailer and sat down opposite her at the table. The tea was scalding and almost black, and she sipped carefully, as Grandma began to turn over the cards in front of her.

‘‘Tes all change for you, maiden, and a journey across water.’

‘I’ve just done that,’ Julia said wearily, Usually Grandma made at least a pretence of seeing the future.

‘This is ‘nother one.’ Grandma gave her a gimlet look.

‘I don’t think so.’ Julia shook her head. ‘This time I’m here to stay.’

‘See what covers you?’ Grandma turned over another card, and gasped. ‘The King of Swords! He’s come to cut you off from all you know. He’s terrible powerful, the King of Swords. You can’t fight him, though you may try.’

‘You can count on that,’ Julia said drily. ‘Can you tell me what he looks like, so I can be sure to avoid him?’

‘He’s close enough to touch.’ Grandma’s voice lowered to a whisper, and in spite of herself Julia felt a faint frisson of uneasiness chill her spine. ‘And you can’t avoid your fate, maiden.’ She turned over the final card, and gasped again. ‘See—the Tower struck by lightning. Your world turned upside down, and no mistake.’

Julia stared down at the card, her brows drawing together. She found herself wishing, ridiculously, that she’d bypassed the camp and let her father deal with the interloper. Then she pulled herself together. She had never been taken in by Grandma’s nonsense before, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.

She drank the rest of her tea in one wincing gulp, and stood up. ‘Well, the weather forecast says nothing about storms,’ she remarked briskly. ‘I’ll take my chance.’ She reached for her bag, but Grandma Pascoe shook her head.

‘There’s no need for money beween us, Miss Julia. I’ve given you the warning. I can do no more.’ She paused. ‘You’re a proud girl, and no mistake, with a mind of your own. But that pride of yours will be brought low. It’s all here.’ She tapped the cards with a bony forefinger. ‘Now run away home, and dance at your party while you can.’